The Urge
by Praevarus
Summary: Harry fights a lonely battle that he ends up losing every night. When Draco sees the resemblance to someone he can't save anymore, he is determined to save Harry instead. Eating disorder/bulimia. Non graphic HPDM slash.


**Disclaimer: **Not my characters.

**Warnings: **Slash and eating disorders. Somewhat graphic descriptions of bulimia and mentions of EDNOS.

**A/N: **I'd like to say that I apologize if anyone personally affected by this eating disorder feels like it's inaccurately portrayed - Harry's behaviour in this story comes partially from my own experiences, and partially from my imagination. Everyone with bulimia has different habits, feelings, etc, but I hope no one is offended by this. Thank you for reading.

**The Urge**

Harry felt like a criminal when he sneaked into the kitchen that night. It had become a routine, getting to the kitchen unseen, as he practically spent all of his nights there now. He was used to putting on his invisibility cloak and asking the house elves for food, praying that Filch wouldn't show up for rounds. But he couldn't get used to the fact that he couldn't tell his friends.

The worst thing was, he knew that they knew. When he sat at the breakfast table, looking dead tired and refusing to eat, they knew he had been gone all night. But Harry still lied, ignoring their worried and suspicious looks.

It wasn't as though he wanted to do this. On the contrary. Every single morning, he'd promise himself that it had been the last time, that he'd stop. He'd even tried leaving his invisibility cloak with Hermione so that he couldn't retrieve it when he needed it, but even then the urge had been too strong, and he'd made his way downstairs without the cloak, even more terrified than usual. It was a miracle he hadn't been caught.

"Good evening, what can we do for you?" A friendly female house elf asked, popping up in front of Harry. They were hard to tell apart, but it was quite likely that he had spoken to this one before. His nightly trips to the kitchen were so frequent that even the house elves seemed to worry about him. But they never said anything about it, much to Harry's relief.

"I'd like..." Harry thought about it, biting his nails as he started to list the foods that he craved, foods he remembered being served at dinner and for dessert. The list went on and on, and Harry felt just as ashamed as the first time he'd done this. But there was no way to get a hold of food at Hogwarts otherwise, and he knew the house elves were the most trustworthy creatures at Hogwarts. They would never tell.

"Coming right up," the house elf said with a sad smile, and disappeared. Harry wondered if the house elves were talking about him. They were a lot smarter than they seemed. He sat down on the floor while he waited, wondering how the hell he'd let himself sink this deep.

It had really started about six months ago, at the beginning of his fifth year at Hogwarts. His summer with the Dursleys hadn't been much different than usual. At least, when it came to food. They hadn't fed him any less than other years. They had never completely starved him, even the Dursleys weren't that cruel. But during most summers since he'd started attending Hogwarts they had made him survive on just slightly less than what a growing boy needed. It had always taken some time to adjust when returning to Hogwarts and being able to eat what he wanted. Harry wasn't sure whether it had to do with all the pressure on his shoulders as well, and with blaming himself for Cedric's death, but for some reason, this time he'd snapped.

He'd been overwhelmed. After a summer of eating only the bare minimum, there were suddenly tables full of delicious food in front of him, all of which he was allowed to have as much of as he wanted. He'd put Ron to shame when it came to wolfing down food, and when he'd started on his second dessert, Hermione had carefully reminded him that maybe it was better if he built up his food intake more slowly. Embarrassed to the bone about his shameless eating, Harry had put down his fork.

But the hunger hadn't disappeared. He did a good job of controlling himself around others now, having well balanced and healthy meals, but when he was alone, no food was safe around him. It got to the point where he couldn't even be alone with the chocolates the other students' parents had sent them for Christmas, because he'd embarrass himself by eating all of it when they weren't around. He'd started to realize by now that maybe his hunger wasn't just physical, but emotional as well. He was still hungry, as he needed more and more food to satisfy his stomach, but he knew he was using food as a way to comfort him. When he felt sad or alone, he'd start eating until he felt like he was going to explode. At least he'd forget about everything for a while.

Then he'd realized his body was starting to change. He knew others had noticed it before while he'd been in denial about it. Others probably hadn't fussed about it so much because they'd all thought Harry had always been too skinny, and figured a little meat on his bones couldn't do any harm. But Harry was getting fat, and he knew it. He'd been slightly underweight most of his life, and being fat was something he'd never experienced. He couldn't deal with it. He felt awful for feeling this way, because he didn't judge others for being overweight, but for some reason, he loathed himself for it.

When he'd finally found a way to stop himself from gaining weight too rapidly, he'd been happy. Euphoric, almost. Now, he almost wished he'd never started it. He shouldn't have tried it again when he'd failed that first time. He wasn't someone who naturally threw up easily. Even when he had the flu he hardly ever vomited. So when he'd stuck his fingers down his throat the first time, nothing had happened. He'd held onto his blown up stomach, crying in frustration. He'd tried a second and a third time, until he was finally able to do it.

Now it was like a second nature.

A house elf popped up in front of him with a tray of food, and then two others did. Harry felt his cheeks heat up in embarrassment at the fact that it took three house elves to carry the food that he'd probably consume in less than an hour. Maybe two hours, if he'd purge in between. "Thank you," he said as the trays were put on the floor in front of him.

"You're welcome," the same female house elf from before said. "Do you need anything else sir?"

Harry quickly shook his head, because he knew that if the house elves wouldn't leave within five seconds or so, he'd get started on the food in front of them. Thankfully, they disappeared immediately.

He knew he looked disgusting, but he didn't think about that. It was hard to describe what did go through his head as he shoved the food into his mouth. _Nothing_ probably came closest, and that was exactly the point. It was numbing him.

He didn't care about his hands getting dirty as he stuffed the food into his mouth in combinations that would make others gag. Cheese and chocolate, icecream and bread, it didn't matter. He hardly even tasted the food. His hands were dirty, his mouth was probably dirty, and he was making a shameless mess on the floor. He was slowly starting to get to the point where his stomach felt like it was about to explode, and he'd hardly be able to walk to the restrooms.

Harry just got started on the last of his cupcakes, shaking with nausea, when he heard footsteps behind him. He startled. Could it be one of the house elves? But no, the footsteps were too loud. And they were too close. Whoever it was, they'd seen him. Terrified, Harry wiped his mouth and turned around, finding himself face to face with a wide eyed Draco Malfoy.

"Potter, what the fuck are you doing?" The Slytherin took a step back, staring at the scene in front of him.

Harry knew that even Malfoy wouldn't be stupid enough to believe that he was merely having a midnight snack. He tried to think of an excuse, but his brain wasn't cooperating. All he could think of was throwing up. That was his number one priority now. He'd worry about Malfoy later. "Fuck off Malfoy," he said in a shaky voice. He grabbed his invisibility cloak off the floor and ran to the nearest bathroom, throwing the cloak over himself in the process of running. Moving this fast hurt like hell, but he had to get away from the kitchen.

He was baffled when he heard Malfoy's footsteps behind him. He was running as well, and probably faster than Harry was capable of right now.

Harry was relieved he managed to reach the bathroom before Malfoy had caught up with him, but as soon as he threw off his invisibility cloak, he was knocked to the floor by the Malfoy. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He screamed hysterically. "Let me go!"

Malfoy was sitting half on top of him, pressing him down to the floor. "No," he panted. "Don't do it."

Harry stared at him for a moment, wondering what was going on. Malfoy couldn't possibly know what he was about to do. Then he started to fight the other boy again. "What the hell is wrong with you? You know nothing about me!" He yelled. He was physically weak, but it was like his anger and desperation were giving him strength, and he surprised himself by managing to push Malfoy off him. As Malfoy fell onto the floor, Harry got up and ran into a stall, locking the door behind him. He fell down on his knees and shoved most of his fingers down his throat, wanting to be quick in case Malfoy was crazy enough to barge into the stall as well.

But apparently he wasn't. Harry couldn't blame him. If Malfoy was still in the same spot, he was able to hear what Harry was doing, and no one would want to witness that. It was disgusting.

When nothing else would come out, Harry flushed the toilet and leaned against the wall, endorphins rushing through him. The usual feelings of euphoria and guilt were mixed with a sense of fear now, because he had no idea if Malfoy was still there, and how on earth he'd face him. Not to mention what had been going on in Malfoy's mind when he'd followed him.

When he finally mustered up the strength and courage to leave the stall, Malfoy was still there. Harry stiffened and ignored him because he simply didn't know what else to do, and made his way to one of the sinks to drink some water and clean himself up.

"How long have you been doing this, Potter?" Malfoy's voice broke the silence. Harry couldn't look at him. "I know I'm the last person you want to talk to about his," Malfoy continued when Harry didn't reply. "And I'm not going to force you to do that. But I know what you're up to, and I know how bad it is for you."

Harry bit his lip, still unable to look at Malfoy. "Why the fuck do you care?" He wished it had come out stronger.

Malfoy sighed. "Okay, Potter, I'm going to tell you something really personal, and if you tell anyone, I'm going to hex your balls off. But I suppose I just learned something very personal about you as well, so we'll be even."

Harry frowned. He wasn't sure whether he should actually take Malfoy seriously. "Okay..."

"I know what's going on with you, so I'm not going to beat around the bush." Malfoy took a deep breath. "My mother, she's been suffering from eating disorders for years."

Harry's breath hitched. He looked into the mirror to try and avoid eye contact with Malfoy. No one had ever said that about him out loud. Well, technically Malfoy hadn't, but he'd implied it, by comparing him to his mother. Eating disorder. "What are you telling me for?"

"Because...look at me, Potter." The only reason Harry did what he was told, was because his own face in the mirror was even more depressing to look at. When he saw Malfoy, he knew why he'd wanted him to look him in the eye. To show him he was being honest. "I've watched her doing the same thing you do for years. Well, her behaviour varies, but that doesn't matter. My point is, with her it's been going on for ages. It started when she was even younger than we are. She's a lost cause. I don't want anyone to end up like her. Not even you." Harry normally might have snapped at him for that last comment, but he saw that Malfoy was half joking. "It can kill you, Potter. I'm serious."

"Considering your mother is still alive, I guess that doesn't happen so easily."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, she's alive alright. And that's only because she manages to recover every now and then, only to relapse again. And did I mention I've had to take her to the hospital twice?"

Harry blinked. "You did?" He couldn't help himself. His morbid curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Yes." Malfoy looked away, a flash of hurt showing in his eyes. "Whenever my father was too busy. One time she passed out and they had to tube-feed her because she was too underweight. And another time she was throwing up blood."

Harry was finding it hard to breathe. "But I'm not underweight," he whispered. "I'm not even as skinny as I used to be." Harry considered himself to have quite an accurate perception of what he looked like, because he knew he wasn't fat, either. He was just normal now. But even normal seemed fat to him, compared to how skinny he'd been all these years.

Malfoy sighed. "Potter, the time she had to go to the hospital because she was throwing up blood, she wasn't underweight. She'd been doing exactly what you are doing. She'd just been doing it for too long."

It was freaking Harry out that Malfoy seemed to understand what was going on so well. He didn't even want to think about what it would be like to be hiding his behaviour not only from his friends, but from Malfoy, who knew much more about the signs than Hermione and Ron did. "I don't want to stop," he tried to convince Malfoy. "Leave me alone."

"Bullshit," Malfoy said immediately. "You're just scared. But okay, I will leave you alone. If you ever change your mind, let me know." With that, he walked away, leaving a shaky and confused Harry behind. At the same time, Harry couldn't help but notice the strange, warm feeling deep inside of him, that told him he should be grateful that someone cared. But, he reminded himself, that was nonsense. This was Malfoy, and he had no intention of actually helping him. He was just doing this because of his mother, and it had nothing to do with him.

Over the next few weeks, Malfoy left Harry alone. Harry took this as a sign that Malfoy really didn't care after all, and went on with his nightly binging and purging as though nothing had happened. But things did get worse, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself. He'd always eaten very small amounts during the day, but slowly he stopped eating in general, with the exception of his frantic binging at night. He was starting to feel more and more tired, the combination of his unhealthy eating pattern and his sleepless nights finally starting to take their toll.

What scared him the most was that he was getting complications that he knew he couldn't blame on anything other than his eating problems. His throat was sore almost constantly, and he suffered from stomach aches and chest pains that didn't feel like anything he'd ever experienced. But it wasn't until one Friday evening in the middle of April that things really got out of hand. Staring into the toilet, there were spots of crimson that could not be missed.

He'd seen drops of blood in there before, but he'd blamed those on cutting his throat with his finger nails. This was different, though. There was a lot more of it, and Harry found himself desperately wondering whether he'd eaten anything red. He hadn't.

He quickly flushed the toilet, not wanting to look at it anymore. He had known that he was doing something horrible to his body, but it hadn't seemed real. Like nothing bad could actually happen to him. It was another thing to have it rubbed in his face like this.

He raised his trembling hand and cast a messaging spell. It was pathetic, and Malfoy would probably be pissed off at him for waking him up in the middle of the night, but he didn't know what else to do. He was scared, and there was no one else he could talk to.

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees. He suddenly realized just how tired he was, and started to drift off to sleep, right there on the tile floor.

"Potter!" Harry was woken by a gentle nudging and a voice calling his name. His eyes shot open. Malfoy. He almost regretted having called him, because he would surely be too embarrassed to actually talk to him. "Merlin Potter, I thought something was wrong with you. Don't scare me like that again, okay?"

Harry blinked sheepishly, then realized Malfoy must have thought he'd passed out. "Sorry."

Malfoy kneeled down next to him. "What happened?"

"Blood," Harry said quietly.

"How much?"

Harry shrugged. "Not that much, but...I don't know. Not that much."

"You should go to Madam Pomfrey, Potter. Seriously. You might have done some damage to your esophagus. Probably nothing too severe if there wasn't a lot of blood, but it might cause more damage in the long run. And even if it's nothing bad, you should still talk to her about your eating disorder."

"No." Harry shook his head violently. "I don't want to. I really don't. She'll make me go to therapy or something and everyone will know, and I..." His breathing became more rapid, and he felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Shit, I'm sorry Potter, calm down." Malfoy sighed. "Okay, let's make a deal. You'll try to get better, and only if things don't get better or if you see blood again, you go to Madam Pomfrey. But you will be honest about it, and then you'll really go. Okay?"

Harry was hesitant to agree. He wanted to, but he'd tried to stop without result so many times already. How would this time be different? "How will I get better, though? I can't do it by myself." When he looked at Malfoy, he realized how that must have sounded. "I didn't mean that you...Sorry."

Malfoy shook his head. "Actually, I do want to try to help. I was just thinking of how to. I'm not an expert you know, and I'd really rather you go to Madam Pomfrey. There isn't much I can do." He chewed on his lip. "Okay. If you ever feel the urge to binge or purge, message me like you did just now. Promise me you will. Then I will stay with you until the urge is gone. It's the only thing I can do."

Harry smiled weakly. "You will be spending a lot of time with me. Malfoy, I do this every night. And I've tried to ignore it before. It stays all night. I really can't ask that of you. Not after..."

"What?"

"Well, you know. Our history."

Malfoy shot him an amused look. "Well, I suppose this is a good time to leave that behind us, then. It seems like we're going to have plenty of time to talk things through."

xx

Harry was incredibly nervous the next day. He knew the urge would come back like it did every night, and he didn't know what was going to happen. Was he going to able to fight it long enough to message Malfoy? Did he even want to? It seemed to be his only option if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life staying up all night, stuck in this dead end cycle that was destroying him.

That night he shocked himself by messaging Malfoy before he even got the urge. "I knew I was going to feel like I need to binge," he explained once Malfoy was sitting in front of him in the room of requirement. "I didn't yet. But I knew I was going to, because I do every night. I just thought...Once I'd feel the urge, I wouldn't be able to stop myself." He paused, but Malfoy only listened, waiting for him to continue. "Because...there would be that little voice that would tell me that I want to do it, and that I'm sabotaging myself by contacting you." He stared at the floor, wondering how all that truth had just spilled from his lips in front of Malfoy. It was embarrassing how much he apparently needed to talk about it.

"That voice is out to kill you," Malfoy simply said. "Now, fancy a game of chess?"

xx

The following day, Harry couldn't help himself. The need had become too strong after going without what felt like his drug for a day, and he hadn't been able to stop himself. He was so ashamed that while he did want to see Malfoy the next day instead of going back to square one (he'd only been able to stop himself for one night, with help, but it was a start), he didn't message him, simply because he knew he wouldn't be able to face him.

His heart almost stopped when he climbed out of the portrait hole that night. "Good to see you Potter," Malfoy said dryly, leaning against the wall in the pitch black hallway. "Going out for a midnight stroll?"

Harry was wearing his invisibility cloak, but Malfoy had obviously seen the portrait hole open and close. Reluctantly, he pulled off the cloak, revealing himself to the Slytherin. "What are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from doing something you'll regret. Going out for a midnight stroll actually sounds quite good, if I say so myself. Let's go outside. It's quite warm for this time of year." When Malfoy grabbed the invisibility cloak from him and covered both of them with it, Harry didn't even bother to stop him. Malfoy could be quite persistent. Harry couldn't help but smile at it.

xx

Several hours later, Harry wasn't smiling anymore. They were sitting near the black lake, staring out over the dark water, talking about absolutely anything and everything that could possibly distract Harry.

Harry was getting dreadfully cold, but that was the least of his worries. "I need to," he confessed in a quiet voice, burying his face in his hands. The worst thing wasn't even that the urge was eating away at him, but that he was getting annoyed and on the verge of becoming angry with Malfoy for standing in the way of what he really wanted to do. The sane part of him felt incredibly guilty because of this, because he knew Malfoy was getting sleepless nights because of putting up with him, and he was trying to help him.

But he needed to get him out of the way. "I've got to go," Harry murmured, and stood up.

Malfoy hastily jumped up as well and followed him to the castle. "What are you going to do?"

"Sleep," Harry snapped back at him, and started to walk faster.

"Yeah, right." Malfoy caught up with him and grabbed Harry's arm, forcing him to turn around. "We both know that's not what you're going to do. But you know what? Fine. If you want to eat, we're going to get you some food. It'd be a good thing, as long as you don't throw it back up. You haven't been eating at all during the day. Let me get you a reasonably sized meal, and..."

Suddenly, Harry felt like crying at how much effort Malfoy was putting into trying to help him. He didn't deserve it one bit. "I can't!" He screamed, his voice echoing off the castle walls. "Can't you see how much weight I..." He swallowed the rest of his sentence. He freed his arm and started to walk again.

"You're honestly telling me you're fat? That's bullshit Potter, you and I both know it. It's just an excuse not to change your behaviour. Potter? Potter, listen to me, damnit!" Harry started to run, his vision blurry with tears. "Potter!" Malfoy also started to run, and grabbed Harry by his shirt.

Harry looked at him, tears running down his cheeks. "You don't understand, Malfoy. I don't deserve to get better. There's no point. Please let me be."

For a moment Malfoy looked desperate, as though he was going to give up on Harry. Then time stopped, as Harry found himself being kissed by his long time rival.

It felt unexpectedly good, and warm. Malfoy's lips were pressed firmly against his, but at the same time there was a pleasant softness to them. Harry's eyes automatically fluttered closed as he kissed Malfoy back. For one moment he wasn't thinking about everything that was going wrong in his life.

When Malfoy pulled away, he looked just as shocked as Harry felt, if not more so. "What did you do that for, Malfoy?" Harry asked, coming to his senses. One thing was for sure: He wasn't cold anymore, not in the slightest.

"I was...distracting you," Malfoy replied quietly.

In an instant, Harry was stone cold again, and not just physically. "Fuck you Malfoy," he said in a low voice, and this time when he ran off, he was determined not to let anyone stop him. He heard Malfoy yelling something in the distance, but it hardly reached his ears. He never should have trusted him. He should have known better than to think that anyone actually wanted to help him, especially Malfoy.

xx

Harry turned into something resembling a zombie, or at least that's what he felt like. He'd binge and purge all night, without being able to stop until the daylight hit and he couldn't possibly stay in the kitchen any longer. He was more exhausted than he had ever been in his life.  
>It took three weeks for him to finally collapse.<p>

xx

When Harry woke in the hospital wing, he wasn't pleased at all. To make matters worse, he found there was an IV needle in his arm, pumping Merlin knows what into his body. "I don't need it!" He complained to Madam Pomfrey when she stopped by to check on him. "I'm not too skinny or anything. If you're not going to take it out, I'm going to rip it out!"

All Pomfrey did was give him a sympathetic look before she left the room. However, a voice coming from a different direction startled Harry, as he hadn't heard anyone come in. "Seriously Potter? They're secured by magic, so I wouldn't bother trying."

Harry refused to look at Malfoy. "You tell them that I don't need an IV then," he snapped. "You seem to know all about this stuff. They should listen to you."

"Actually, it's probably quite a good idea to keep the needle for now. You're malnourished," Malfoy said matter-of-factly, then sighed. "Look Potter, I didn't just come here to be a smartass, I came to apologize."

"Why would you?" Harry muttered.

"Well, there was a misunderstanding about that...kiss."

Harry flushed. "Yes, you did it to distract me. What's wrong with that? I didn't expect it to mean anything."

"It did." It came out so quietly that Harry hardly heard it. He couldn't help but look at Malfoy.

"What?"

"I said it did. Look, when I decided that I wanted to try to help you, yes, that was because of my mother. I can't save her anymore, so... That might sounds stupid, and it probably was. But...I can't stand it."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "What?" He repeated.

"Making fun of you was fun when you fought back, when you made snarky remarks in return. But now that you have such low self esteem, it's not funny anymore. Not at all. I can't stand it," Malfoy whispered. "I know it doesn't mean anything coming from me, but you're not fat, and you do deserve to get better."

Harry chewed on his lip for a moment, still getting used to the idea of Malfoy being so awfully nice. "It does mean something," he said in the end.

Malfoy's head snapped up. "Really?"

"Yeah. But..." Harry hesitated. "It's not enough."

Malfoy sighed. "I know. You need help, Potter."

"I do."

They remained silent for a while, until Madam Pomfrey came back. "I'm going to have to take your shirt off Potter," she said in a gentle voice. "We're going to do some general check ups."

Malfoy eyed Harry nervously. "Do you want me to leave?"

Harry thought about it for a moment. He wasn't comfortable with his body at all, but if he had to show his body to Madam Pomfrey anyway, he'd rather have someone there who seemed to almost understand him. "Well, I'm not sure if I want a fairy staring at my half naked body," he said with a small smile.

"Really?" Malfoy said sarcastically. He leaned in and kissed Harry full on the lips, right in front of poor old Madam Pomfrey. When Harry started to kiss back eagerly, he pulled away and grinned. "Look who's talking."


End file.
